morning glory
by orange crush
Summary: following 'smashed'. a rather hushed little fic. daylight sometimes makes us see things more clearly. B/S, of course.


She focused her eyes on the wall, and unfocused them on the cement pillars, and focused them again on the ruined plastic sheets that served as walls. Sitting up would be a start. Pressing her palm to the floor, she formed words in her mind, one by one.

Cold, she said to herself. Cold floor. White walls. Light coming in, sideways and pink through the plastic. I woke up next to Spike. No, not that. Everything but that. Dust in the air. Spike is still sleeping beside me, with one hand tucked into mine. Hey, self, stay focused, alright ? Crooked pillars. Cracks in the wall.

"Good morning." he said, and she started ever so slightly. Not quite sure just when his eyes had opened. But they were looking at her now, bright blue orbs focused with that natural stare, the unwavering predator's stare that had somehow lost its power to frighten. Lost its power to frighten, maybe, but not to hold. She found herself sinking back down, laying at his level, only one of their chests rising and falling with breath.

"Hey." she said, and she sounded two continents away. The blue eyes streaked gray for a brief second, so he shut them and pressed his lips to her hand instead. 

"Hey." he replied, not releasing her just yet. "Did you.. sleep okay ?" This question sounds foolish in his own ears, but he asks it. For cripes' sake, it's not like he has a lot of experience with first times. Same woman for a hundred years tends to put you in a pattern. This was different. But it was always different with Buffy, anyway. She looks back at him, with something forming at the corners of her mouth. A smile, or a frown. 

"Yeah." she says, thinking about something else, and gives his hand a squeeze. I slept fine, she thought to herself. Never mind that I was next to someone who could've killed me while I slept. I guess that's the point, then. Could've. Didn't. Wouldn't, maybe ? "We should get going." she adds, and sits up again, looking around now for her clothes, any part of her clothes that may have survived the night. This amuses him, and she realizes for the first time, when he starts to laugh, that he's naked. "Oh." she sputters, and looks away, but this gesture only serves to inform her that, well, she's as clothed as he is. "Oh." He points to the chandelier, where a prominent piece of lacy unmentionables is dangling suggestively. 

"Want to hear the story about how that got up there ?" he says, grinning. At this, she slumps a little, and her shoulders start to shake. "Pet ?" But her only response is soft giggling.

"Interesting." she manages to get out, after a little while. He nods.

"Very." He stretched slowly, like a cat, and rolled onto his side, propped up on one arm. She watched him, a twinge of possessiveness coming into her eyes. Mine, she thought, without meaning to. No, that's ridiculous. He's a vampire. You don't want a vampire. The aforementioned undergarment shouted contradictory things at her, and she tried to ignore it. Mine, the little voice repeated. Still, he almost glowed, eyeing her happily, and she could almost detect a faint purr beginning in his throat. She tried to bring up the right words, to understand what it was about him that looked so different today. Not necessarily different from the way he looked last night, but why this whole scene was just... different.

He doesn't look like he's going anywhere, her brain chipped in suddenly. He looks like he's staying. And he did. His pose suggested, if anything, a sort of sleepy contentment. It was rolling off of him in waves, a sort of blissful pause. He was staying. 

"I have to go." she said, quickly, and dragged her protesting underwear from the lamp. She scooped up her skirt and wrapped it around her wait, fastened her bra shut, and was halfway done buttoning her blouse when a cool hand on her arm stopped her flight. How did he get into his jeans so fast, when I wasn't looking ?

"Will you talk to me ?" he murmured. 

"Now ?" she snapped back. "Dawn's already going to ask me where I was." In the instant she shook off his hand, she regretted it, because no anger came to the surface of his eyes. Only sadness, and something deeper, that might have been pain. They're still blue, she thought. "Look..." she let her tone soften, "...you know that this.. this isn't..."

"Anything to you ?" he finished for her, and she flinched at how cruel that sounded.

"No, no. That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean ?"

"Spike..."

"Tell me what you mean." She steeled herself against what she had to tell him now, that she didn't love him, that she couldn't love him, that this was wrong and sick and over and...

...quite suddenly, realized that she didn't feel like saying all that anymore. If you were looking at me, she thought, memorizing the curves in his face, with anger, or pride, or that cocky grin I'm always trying to wipe off of your face, I could do this. I could tell you what I started to tell you. But you're looking at me like I'm wonderful. You're looking at me like you're grateful, and hopeful, and just a little afraid. 

I'll bet you look about the same way I do.

She kissed him, with less passion and more tenderness than last night, and they held it that way until she broke away for air. He smoothed one hand up her hairline, letting his fingers trail the length of a few strands of honey-colored hair, she this made her smile.

"I feel." she remarked, like stating a new fact. "It's not that same. I'm wrong, after all, I guess, but just the same..."

"I'm sorry." The things he'd said came back to him, then, in a rush. "Oh, Buffy, I'm sorry." he held her at arm's length, and for a second she thought he was going to cry. "I'm so sorry. It's not true. I mean, there's something, but you're not wrong. Oh, God, you're not wrong."

"I am. You proved it."

"No, Buffy, I'm so stupid. It could be anything. Maybe you came back better. I don't know. I'm so stupid, baby, and I'm sorry. You're not wrong." he kissed her forehead, holding her against him, and she could feel him shaking as he spoke. "God. How can you believe there's anything wrong with you ? There's nothing wrong with you." It felt good to hear him say that. Oh, who am I kidding. It feels good just to feel. And it feels better to feel loved.

"Even if it is something, I don't know... if I care." she said quietly, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Buffy ?"

"I don't know." she looked around to the walls, at the cracked plaster, and the faded plastic, and the dingy real-ness of everything. "I mean, I still love Dawn. I still want to, I don't know, do the right thing. Save the world, and everything. I still... care about my friends. And I can feel." When she said this, she pressed a little closer to him, and he drank in her warmth. "I can feel again. I'm not so different, then, am I ?"

"No. No."

"Seems like the only thing different, is... this." her voice dwindled to a whisper, and he leaned in ever so slightly towards her lips. "Is me... caring... about you." He took this in, and turned it over in his mind for a second, before some tiny part of his brain screamed at him what a stupid sod he was; so then he hurried up and kissed her again.

"I love you." he mumbled into her earlobe, and her neck. "I love you."

"I know." she replied into his collarbone. Give me time. Give me time. And then I'll say it too. I won't be able to stop myself for much longer. They broke apart after another minute, her nervousness showing, and him unwilling to push her. Heaven knows we've come far enough this day together.

"You're feeling a little more.. awake, then ?" he said playfully, gathering up his shirt and boots. "Feeling, that another name for-"

"Spike." she warned, and he chuckled to himself.

"Sorry, pet. But the thought that I might've helped you... s'a bit much, you know ?"

"Yeah. I guess." Not so far-fetched. "I just..." she gestured at her body with fluttering hands. "I feel like a light switch got turned on somewhere inside me." Because I'm not hiding in the dark anymore. I'm not afraid. What was I afraid of ? That you'd be able to hurt me again someday, or that you would ? Or worse yet, that I'd let you ? Was I afraid to let you know, that I don't hate you anymore ? Too late. There's no use in hiding anymore. "I feel like... no. That's just it. I feel. D'you know what I mean ?"

Spike dropped his things, and grabbed her hand. He turned it slowly, palm side up, and pressed her fingertips to his bare chest. He let her feel his chest rise and fall, watched her figure out that he was breathing. Taking in air he didn't need. Let her figure out that this was her fault. That this was the effect she always had on him. Made him breathe.

"Yeah." he said. "I think I do."


End file.
